


Fulfilling One's Needs

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Grantaire Shipping Week 2013 (Nov 11-17) [7]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Spanking, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunday's final fic for Grantaire Shipping Week. Combeferre domming the everloving fuck out of sub!Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fulfilling One's Needs

Grantaire was not sure what he had expected of Combeferre's sexual proclivities. While Courfeyrac's loud and rampant sexuality was something Grantaire was regularly reminded of, and Enjolras' quiet disinterest spoken of whenever the subject arose, of Combeferre's, Grantaire never really knew anything. 

And yet, when he saw Combeferre in the club, with a young man Grantaire didn't recognize at his knees, the sub's shoulder's squared into perfect posture, his chin kept high in a fashion Grantaire would have thought prideful in another context, his hair perfectly coiffed, cuffs at his wrists creating a symmetry that would have been gorgeous even to the untrained eye, Grantaire was amazed he had never realized this was Combeferre's true place before.

The medical student was leaning slightly, hand stroking over the sub's jaw as he murmured something in his ear, and then he straightened. The sub stood carefully to his knees, and then moved away, where another dom collared him and moved to take away the cuffs.

"Didn't think I'd see you here." Grantaire said in a small voice, his tone teasing. Combeferre turned to regard him over gold-rimmed glasses, and he raised his eyebrows.

"I couldn't say the same." He returned smoothly. "A switch, aren't you?" Combeferre asked, regarding Grantaire with an appraising expression.

"That's right."

"And what partner are you looking for tonight?"

"A dominant." Grantaire answered, with neither a blush to his cheeks nor a quaver in his tone. He was confident here: he knew the routine.

"Have you been drinking?"

"Not here." Grantaire retorted, affronted by the accusation. "Now, if you'll excuse me-"

"You'd leave me alone with not a friend to speak of?" Combeferre asked, tone deliberate as he took a step forwards, and suddenly Grantaire was aware of eyes on his back, but more importantly, how much taller Combeferre was than him, and he considered the muscle in Combeferre's arms, the skill of his hands. "Nor a sub?"

Grantaire's eyes scanned over Combeferre's form, and he didn't bother to hide his interest. He'd considered Combeferre before, in a vague fashion, but never like this.

"You'd wish I sub for you?"

"You'd bless me to deign so." Grantaire stiffened, his cheeks reddening despite himself, but Combeferre's tone betrayed no mockery. 

"Flattery will get you nowhere." Grantaire said, and Combeferre sighed.

"Alas, I am disappointed. If you do not want me, though, do not make me keep you. I'm sure any dominant in this place would be glad to-"

"I didn't say I didn't want you." Grantaire said, regarding the few that were watching the interaction with interest. "Just not here. Come home with me."

"You trust me so?"

"I trust you with my life every day, is this so different?" The statement was bold, but it served its purpose. 

"Fine." And Grantaire led Combeferre from the back-alley establishment in the strange faux-banlieue of Paris, leading him back towards the Musain, to Grantaire's home.

"I'm not a lenient dominant."

"I don't appreciate leniency." Grantaire returned.

"I will not be easy on you."

"You heard me."

"Don't cheek me."

"I'll cheek you as I like."

"You'll take punishment for it."

"So be it: I shan't hold my tongue for your sake." 

"Whose sake  _will_  you hold it for?" Grantaire said nothing. Grantaire lit a candle when they entered his apartment, moving to light the other wax candles placed around the room, bathing it in light. Combeferre had not been to Grantaire's apartment before, and found himself surprised.

It was neater than he had expected, despite the cluttered items on every surface, the canvases layered against the walls. "We will not talk to Enjolras of this, nor to Courfeyrac."

"You say that as if not to deny the others a charming story."

"Jehan will know of this if you do not object."

"I've no objections. He is a good man." Grantaire inclined his head. "Why don't you do this with him?"

"He has no interest in games like this."

"You would call it a game so candidly?" Combeferre asked, taking a step forwards and reaching out, putting his hand in Grantaire's hair and cupping the back of his head.

"Is that not what it is?" The drunkard returned, his voice as soft as anything, to be almost inaudible. 

"It's more than that." Combeferre said. "Do you have a word?"

"Gros." Grantaire said, and Combeferre hummed. 

"It truly is a game to you." He commented. "Remove your vest and your blouse, and then kneel."

"Just my vest and blouse?"

"Quiet your mouth and do as I say." Grantaire removed his vest, and then removed the shirt, setting both aside. 

"You want me to suck your cock?" Combeferre slapped Grantaire across the face, the sound of it ringing around the room and stinging, sharp and hot, on his skin.

"Don't be so crass." Grantaire's hand went to his own cheek and he took in a slow breath, surprised. 

"Crass? You punish me for crassness when you have me on my knees?" Combeferre reached out, tightening his hand on Grantaire's hair and pulling his head back a little. 

"You will speak to me politely."

"Oh,  _will_ I?"

"I don't like defiance in my subs." Combeferre said sharply. "If you want me to hurt you, beat you, I would require you ask for it. Pushing me and attempting to provoke violence from me is neither honest nor admirable." 

Grantaire stared at him. "That wasn't- I don't-"

"You want me to hurt you." Combeferre continued, over-ruling Grantaire's words and interrupting them with a plain ease. "This is obvious."

"Combeferre-"

"If you think that you deserve pain, Grantaire, then it is true, and I shall indulge you. Pain in pleasure, not in punishment." Grantaire moved to stand, but Combeferre caught his shoulder and pushed him down again. "Do you want me to fuck you? Beat you? Whip your thighs with a cane, smack your backside with my hand? Take the space between your thighs and baptize you with my orgasm? Take your mouth?"

Grantaire let out a choked sound. "All."

"All? You are greedy." 

"You asked me what I wanted; I answered true." Combeferre hummed. 

"So you did. Undo my trousers and make your mouth useful." Grantaire shifted up on his knees, undoing the buttons before him and removing Combeferre with trembling hands. 

"Oh." The sound came unbidden from Grantaire's own mouth as he regarded Combeferre's cock, lips remaining parted. 

"Problem?" Combeferre asked, and Grantaire opened and closed his mouth.

"Bigger than I expected."

"Put that loud mouth of yours to better use." Grantaire dipped forwards and obeyed. He put his lips to the base of Combeferre's cock, kissing the warm skin there, before tracing the vein on the underside of his cock with his tongue before sucking the head of it into his mouth.

Combeferre hummed, pleased, as Grantaire bobbed his head a little, swirling his tongue over the other man's cock and tracing the line of the glans. Combeferre wasn't rough, and he let Grantaire take his time, though his hand was a constant reminder on the back of the brunet's head.

"Would it be better for you that I take your entrance or put myself between your thighs?" Combeferre asked, the question more to himself than addressed to Grantaire. "To take you would be to debase you, but so it would be to paint you with my come."

Grantaire let out a strangled moan around Combeferre, and when he pulled back, a mix of saliva and precome clung to his lips, connecting Grantaire's mouth and the head of Combeferre's cock in an ugly, slick mess. 

"Stand." Grantaire did, and Combeferre frowned, grasping at his shoulders and bodily straightening them, raising his chin. "Your posture is repugnant." Combeferre commented with a slight curl to his lips. "I won't take my subs with a slouch."

"Pick better subs then." Combeferre slapped him for the second time that evening, and this time Grantaire whimpered, dropping his head forwards and leaning heavily against Combeferre's chest. "Apologies." Grantaire whispered, the word nearly muted entirely by the fabric of Combeferre's jacket as the medical student cupped the back of his head.

"Accepted." Combeferre said, in the gentle, rational tone Grantaire had grown used to over months of seeing the other man in the Musain. "Take off your trousers and your boots, and lay yourself on the bed."

"My bed." The correction came unbidden from Grantaire's mouth, and Combeferre's retort was in an amused tone.

"Tonight, our bed." Grantaire kicked off his boots and shucked off his trousers, until he was naked and clothed only in the slight sheen of his own sweat by candlelight, as he moved over to the bed and dropped onto it with a soft sound.

He lay on his front, pulled pillows under his body and buried his face against them, raising his backside and spreading his thighs in an obscene fashion. Grantaire did not see Combeferre lick his lips, but if he had, he would have been proud of a plan well-executed.

Combeferre moved forwards, removing only his own shirt and making no effort to follow suit with his trousers. He only kicked off his boots and followed Grantaire's lead onto the mattress, pressing the drunkard's thighs together and insinuating himself between them. 

Grantaire let out a choked whimper as Combeferre fucked forwards, his cock rubbing tantalizingly against Grantaire's own as he moved his hips. Combeferre thrust his hips with quiet grunts against Grantaire's shoulder, and he moulded himself against Grantaire's back to enjoy the warmth of the other man beneath him.

Grantaire grabbed and grasped at the pillows, pressing his face as strongly as he could manage against them as if to muffle his soft cries, but Combeferre grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up.

He adjusted Grantaire's position as if he were a doll, straightening his shoulders, lifting his head, forcing a subtler curve to Grantaire's back, and the brunet whined. "There is a way to this." Combeferre murmured, his hips taking up a regular rhythm that was too slow and too fast and Grantaire both hated and loved him for it. "A good sub should have good posture, a proud fashion, a comfortable ease to taking orders, an ability to ask for what is wanted." Grantaire mewled as he tried to drop forwards and Combeferre stopped him, forcing him to strain the muscles in his arms and keep himself up.

"Just as a good dom should keep noble posture himself, pay close attention to his devotee, consider his sub's needs and improvement, and take care to think of  _aesthetics_."

"Aesthetics?" Grantaire managed to repeat even as Combeferre's thrusts grew faster and began assuredly stopping his ability to speak intelligently.

"If someone were watching us now, if Jehan Prouvaire watched us with his pen to paper, he would describe us well, would he not? Describe the glisten to your skin, the curve of your back as taut as an archer's bow, the way your muscles are straining to hold your place, the way the head of your member  _drips_  as wax drips from a candle. He would describe in more artful terms than I the tousle of your hair, the parting of your pink lips, the stubble on your cheeks and the way your hands grasp at the sheets beneath you as if to distract from your duty."

"And what would he say of you?" Combeferre laughed, pressing a kiss to Grantaire's shoulder before answering.

"Does one regard the painter when examining his artwork, as if the former were part of the piece?"

"No, sir."

"No, indeed." Combeferre moved to grasp at Grantaire's cock, his grip just the best side of tight, and Grantaire whined. "Orgasm for me." And Grantaire did, arching up and tightening the grip of his thighs around Combeferre's cock, letting out choked, desperate noises as Combeferre's clever, slender fingers worked him through it.

Combeferre took to his own orgasm, fucking the space between Grantaire's thighs with new fervour, and when he came he painted Grantaire's cock and his thighs with it, making the brunet whimper at the sensation. 

"Dear God above." Grantaire whispered, dropping forwards onto the bed and spreading his limbs out in every direction as Combeferre chuckled.

"It's something more than a game, you see."

"I see. We should do this again."

"Again?"

" _Every day_." Grantaire said as part of a pleased sigh, and Combeferre hummed thoughtfully, tracing over Grantaire's backside. 

"And I've yet to smack this yet."

"Give me reprieve, if only for twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes?" Combeferre repeated, following the words with a low whistle. "You've more faith in your recovery time than I."

"You do not know it as well as I, of course." Grantaire returned cleverly, and Combeferre chuckled, moving to lie beside him.

"Of course." Combeferre repeated, removing his spectacles and holding them, folded, in his hands. Grantaire regarded him in a half-drowse state, interested.

"You've pretty eyes."

"You've a handsome ass." Combeferre returned, and Grantaire chuckled, reaching out with his hand to place it over Combeferre's hip.

"I thank you." He said quietly, lips quirked in a smile. "Perhaps you should study under Prouvaire, and take in his wordy tendencies, write the poetry you're so eager to describe against my skin."

"The science of words and their intricacies is lost on me." Combeferre returned easily, putting his hand atop Grantaire's and leaving it there. "And besides, sometimes words are better suited to cling to skin than paper."

"I shall take care to never wash them off." Combeferre grinned and Grantaire relaxed, his eyes closing. They took their twenty minutes. After that, Grantaire took to his duty with equal passion as the other. 


End file.
